


wanna feel like this forever

by valkyrierising



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Post-Canon, The Ghost Crew - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9099700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrierising/pseuds/valkyrierising
Summary: They were all so sure that the end was there and if they had to go, well, it was one hell of a way to go. Everything after is new and terrifying and unexpected. It’s the question that’s always haunted her - where to next?





	

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from carly rae jepsen's 'gimmie love'.

Despite it all, they survive. And that’s not even the hardest part.

 

-.-

 

They don’t talk about Scarif.

 

It’s a bit of an unstated thing - no one wants to bring up their almost deaths, where their darkest hours were illuminated by the shining idea of _hope._ It was sheer recklessness in the face of nothing left to lose - no one expected to make it out alive, even Chirrut who decided that his life was whether or not Force willed it, felt they’d all just narrowly escaped the jaws of death that forced several reevaluations. They were all so sure that the end was there and if they had to go, well, it _was_ one hell of a way to go. Everything after is new and terrifying and unexpected. It’s the question that’s always haunted her - where to next?

 

But then the strangest thing happened, and someone that was called to assemble to be their fleet to hold oFf the Imperial forces had made a break for it, going down to the beach between the explosions to find the survivors of Rogue One

 

She doesn’t think about what comes next, she’s made her peace with the end, with this unfinished thing between her and Cassian because what it came down to was having someone with her when the end came. All she ever wanted was someone who wouldn’t leave her and here, in his arms, was the sweetest thing the universe could ever give her after years of misery and loneliness.

 

She feels the ship come up right behind her, sand flying everywhere as she dares to look behind her and Cassian and then there’s people dragging them in.

 

This is the part where it gets fuzzy, where the adrenaline that carried them out to the beachfront fades into bone-deep exhaustion, it’s all she can do to help keep them upright. The Death Star was so close, the destruction racing towards them until she’s realized that somehow between the ship they’re on and the beach they were on, they were not on the shore. The second thing she hears is a man cry out, “Hera, now!” before the jump into hyperdrive.

 

She hadn’t let go of Cassian the entire time, like he’s her lifeline and if she lets go, he will go. She’d always been hungry for more, for someone to call her own, who wouldn’t leave her and if the Force, or the damn Imperial army or even the universe thinks they are taking him from her -

 

Well. They better be prepared to take her along.

 

The crew around them is incredibly sparse - she sees a young boy and girl who couldn’t be any older than sixteen each, a Lasat crew member and a man who couldn’t see. The holding area is her, her own grip on Cassian, Chirrut and Baze and Bodhi huddled together on the other side, looking pale as ghosts and injured like no other and for a moment she fears they have dead bodies on board until each other releases a breath they’d been holding as they pass the shields of Scarif. She looks around the holding area they dragged them in with a triumphant mile.

 

Her first thought is to make sure everyone of their crew was accounted for, even though everyone’s slumped over, the explosions around them knocking them out. Her throat constricts tightly when she doesn’t see K2, understanding his was a necessary sacrifice to get the plans out. Shame though because she had grown fond of the Imperial droid even if all he did was snipe at her.

 

Their saviors came down to them as they look over their injuries, and she’s so tired but she positions herself so that Cassian’s weight is in between her legs, arm wrapped around his waist while she holds them upright. Only then does she allow herself the luxury to lean back and ruminate on the fact that they’re alive.

 

“You’re Jedi,” Chirrut’s labored speech cuts through the ship, the unspoken agreement that there saviors weren’t ordinary spies. They haven’t killed them which is always a plus. Their leader, the one with a helmet who Jyn would wager can’t see, is in charge as he sends the Lasat towards her and the younger two help him look after Bodhi, Baze and Chirrut.

 

She nudges Cassian upward as the Lasat heads towards them, pointing him to look after the Captain first. Following the beach, he’s been drifting in and out of consciousness that she’s done her best to try to keep him awake. They don’t say anything, but she can feel him still fighting to stay awake, watches the Lasat’s paws work deftly on his injuries.

  
“He fell and hit his head, make sure he doesn’t have a concussion,” she tells him, gets a grunt in response, getting up to get something once he’s applied a bacta patch to the part of his leg that somehow tore in between all of the flurry. His leg isn’t broken, mercifully, but the fall left it at a bad angle.

 

She holds one of his hands the entire way through as the Lasat - Zeb, she learns his name later - fixes his leg and she’s just got a few scrapes, nothing in need of immediate care. Bodhi had just barely managed to duck when a grenade went off in the ship, body bruised and partially burnt near his back. And Chirrut and Blaze were in the middle when more grenades went off, but miraculously missed the worst of it.

 

“The Force protected us,” Chirrut says after they’re all looked after, looking at the two other humans in awe. The kid shuffles nervously but is excited, and the man nods. She huffs out a laugh because of course the Force was with them. It arrived in the fact that there were Jedi underneath their noses, and that they saved Rogue One.

 

What matters is that they’re okay (and yes they were in the presence of Jedi, she’s pretty sure that no one who’s not supposed to be cleared should be knowing that _this_ crew had two Jedi on board but she finds she cannot really muster the care when her thoughts are filled of Cassian and his well being.)

 

If her grip on him tightens for the slightest seconds because she thinks of their - of his - potential death, he says nothing of it and instead relaxes deeper in her arms. She rearranges herself around him slightly so that her arms don’t fall asleep.

 

Finally the pilot steps out after a few minutes of hyperdrive, autopilot clearly on she steps out and looks at the ragged remains of Rogue One and smiles at them.

 

“The Rebellion thanks you for your help,” the woman, Hera Jyn recalls being the name being shouted. She’s drifting in and out of sleep, Cassian’s warm weight _definitely_ asleep. Bodhi, Chirrut and Baze were sent towards the medbay they had, their injuries equally bad if not worse than Cassian falling down the towers. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Cassian’s sides so it’s just them down there. “We’re the Ghost crew. Sabine,” she mentions and Jyn’s matches the name to the brown skinned girl, with short and colorful hair who had taken Bodhi to the medbay when she’d seen him, “and the boy’s Ezra. This is Kanan.”

 

“Thank you,” she says, eyes meeting the Twi’lek’s eyes that looked vaguely amused as she held onto Cassian. She supposes she should feel something like embarrassment but it doesn’t matter. “For everything. Truly. We were prepared to die however.”

 

“We know,” Kanan says from Hera’s side. “ But, we had a shot that we could make it.” The two of them share a private smile, the bond of which stirred something inside of her that she’d only felt tugging at her when she and Cassian prepared before Scarif in the cargo ship. He had unraveled something she didn’t want to reel in, the wanting that she’d pushed down years ago coming back that reminded her of home, of Galen and Lyra and their overwhelming loyalty and dedication to each other (to _her_ ) back on Lah’mu.

 

‘So you’re Jedi, actual Jedi?” She asks Kanan, the hum of the engine quiet but loud from her position on the ground, watches as Hera goes up the stairs to see the rest of her team. It’s just her, Cassian and Kanan.

 

“Yeah,” he says, voice far away. The helmet gives him an appearance of almost anger but she sees traces of wistfulness cross his face. “I was - am a Jedi.” Then, the boy, Ezra, sticks his head from the corner briefly, watching the exchange between them before stepping into the area.

 

“Me too,” the kid waves a hand and Jyn smiles at him. He can’t be older than she was when she cut from Saw’s cell but he wasn’t like her because he had this crew, this family. There’s a protectiveness Hera and Kanan have for the rest of them that she can feel the edges of as she thinks on her crew. In a way, Rogue One was like them. It digs insides of her, the ache that she normally had lessening as she thought back on her team. She finally found a family to call her own.

 

They don’t talk much after, but Ezra takes the questions she asks about being a Jedi. His excitement is palpable even if he’s a little bit wary of demonstrating, the hope that Cassian kindled growing as she looks at the new Jedi. It’s the first time that she’s felt unbridled joy in what feels like ages. She wishes Chirrut was down here to see this, feel the force as the kyber necklace around her neck pulses in acknowledgement.

 

The Ghost leaves them to the base on Yavin 4, Hera saluting her briefly as she get off. She had told Jyn that if her crew ever needed to get out of a tight spot to get her, and Jyn smiled in spite of the shock- having people guaranteed to come to your aid was a new feeling.

 

It feels awkward to hover by Cassian’s side so she gets all of her remaining crew into the medbay, just to check again. She fights pass the whole group that’s shuffling around, excitement and dread warring in the air as she makes her way towards Mon Mothma. For what she’s not entirely sure but she needs to know - memory guides her back towards the council room they held her just over a little while ago, where she valiantly tried to get the rest of the Rebellion to understand the severity of Scarif and the plans.

 

No one could blame her if she was the slightest bit smug that their mission was a success, even if no one got the transmission to cover them until the last second.

 

“Mon Mothma,” she says. The woman is shocked and if Jyn’s feeling sentimental she’d think that was happiness in the woman’s eyes.

 

“Jyn Erso. You made it.”

 

“As did the rest of my crew,” she replies, Mon Mothma nodding. There’s a relief in the way she nods, that she’s glad that they survived because Force knows whatever was happening was enough to send them in a tailspin.

 

“General Syndulla did well.”

 

“What’s with the commotion, didn’t the plans go out?”

 

“They did, but the Princess has been captured by Vader. I’m so sorry Jyn, I have to go talk with the other senators.” The energy inside dies as the words hit her, the words ‘princess captured’ assaulting her.

 

She doesn’t feel him until she stumbles backwards into someone’s arms, Cassian’s, wrapping them around hers as her knees swayed and threatened to buckle. It was not a reality she could accept, the princess captured, their hard work in jeopardy.

 

“Breathe,” Cassian orders into her ear, the word bringing her back to her senses as she holds onto him, walking them out. “We couldn’t have stopped that. Our mission was finished once we got off that tower.”

 

She wants to scream - the universe owed it to them to make sure that the princess wasn’t in danger who also happened to possess the only copy of the Death Star plans. Then again, maybe that was the universe paying it back given that _they_ had survived Scarif against all odds.

 

“We cannot do anything about it.” He says once more, and she’s so tired of fighting and running and surviving, she lets herself slacken in his arms. She needs so many drinks to even process the entire day, the adrenaline that’s been carrying her deciding to leave her. She lets him help her out, the fire that carried them through Scarif and back to Yavin finally dying down.

 

“Are you okay?” She asks when he maneuvers her onto this bed, brushing strands of hair from her face. The gentleness of the touch has her nudging against his hand, his touch soothing.

  
“I’m okay. You need to rest,” he says though, brushing her hair back until she’s certain that this isn’t in her head and he is _alive_ and though the princess is captured, they didn’t entirely fail but the chasm is so wide that if it was for nothing, she might break

 

“I’m fine as well,” she shoots back, clutching onto the edge of the bed. Cassian just shakes his head as he gently pushes her back on there, running his hand down her face. She presses her cheek towards the hand, the exhaustion of everything finally hitting her. She passes out for the rest of the afternoon, unaware of where he’d gone. All she has is his jacket. Cassian had taken her to his quarters, feels it because of the jacket and the bed smell - an earthy scent with and slight mint - that is essentially what she associates with Cassian; an empty forest. She’s confused to not find him in there. She gets up, putting the jacket on as she walks out of his room and the chill in the base set through the night towards the medbay. Baze and Bodhi and Chirrut are alive, look at her with smiles when she sprints towards them and holds them.

 

“We did it,” she tells them, feels the sting of tears behind her eyes start again as she looks at her crew - her family - and wipes it with the back of her hand.

 

“Unfortunately, the princess was captured?” Bodhi asks, as if hoping he misinterpreted in a daze.

 

“She was. She got the plans but Vader has her and there’s not a lot anyone can do now besides wait. She sits herself besides Bodhi as he holds onto her, the rest of them just as shocked and not really in a position to do much, especially so shortly after Scarif.

 

But they want to do something, the fire rekindling inside. They would get the Princess out and they would defeat Vader once and for all.

 

She still looks out the door as they hear transmissions repeating through the bay, hoping to see Cassian walk in.

-.-

 

The next weeks are spent in a flurry, collecting intel and learning to pilot. When she’s not, she’s with Bodhi and Baze and Chirrut. The base feels like it’s holding it’s breath when they finally figure out that Rogue One escaped and were alive in their medbay. They speak in hushed tones as they’d carried off their mission and survived and if that’s not proof that the Force is with them then the Force isn’t real. It’s fine the first days but the berth people give them, the almost reverence is enough to get on her last nerve, because she hadn’t done it to be treated as a legend, she’d done it because it was right and someone _needed_ to do something. She doesn’t snap however because she gets a bit of amusement from Bodhi’s flushes at the praise. If there’s one person she wants the opinion of it’s Cassian and he’d made it clear it was business as usual as he took his place as the Rebellion’s highest officer.

Most of the time, the rest of the base was wary to give her mission to collect intel since that one, post Scarif, where things were blown up and Baze _was_ really happy to be a part of that, they’d decided she should learn enough to be part of another squadron if they needed to assemble fast. Bodhi all but squawks when Wedge Antilles tells him the following Rogue Squadrons in their place, honoring their legacy.

Thoughts of Cassian dig inside her like a plant.   _They’d_ been the ones to get the plans, her and Cassian and Bodhi and Baze and Chirrut, but Cassian belonged to the Rebellion, was so very much theirs, it claws at her because they’d very much been prepared to leave them to die. There’s pragmatism and then there’s the fact that Rebellion truly waited to the last nanosecond and of course it irritated her. The territorialism is new, something she smacks down immediately - people belonged to no one, only the choices they made. Still. Cassian was her partner and not talking to him or even seeing him felt a bit like having a missing limb

 

She feels the touches Cassian left like aftershocks all over, feels the phantom hug as he held her on the tower and on the beach, when he’d held on during the Ghost. It bothers her that he’s under her skin so much, that she wants him so badly but is so unsure of how to even begin about breaking it down.

 

“Where is our fearless captain?” Chirrut asks as they eat dinner once, her own thoughts distant until Baze pushes at her foot with his.

 

“What?”

 

“Captain Andor? Have you seen him?”

 

“I think he went back to the Rebellion’s side to help with their current mission.” Baze harrumphs as Bodhi cracks a grin.

 

“He should eat with us more.”

 

She’s certain Cassian is avoiding her but - and she remembers this as she recalls the moments she so much catches him from the corner of her eye, she makes her way towards the nearest escape - she feels that they’re going to keep up this game of emotional chicken for a very long time. A part of her is thankful that the others either haven’t noticed or don’t care that _she’s_ the one diving for an exit when she sees him but they’d always deferred to the both of them during the mission that they still operate under that mindset now.

 

The practical voice inside her head brings up that as a Captain, obviously they’re going to need him but another smaller voice says that she should to talk to him beyond everything that happened.

 

She fantasizes daily about storming Cassian in his quarters and making him talk to her about Scarif - the blaster against Krennic, the hug, about the time in Hera’s ship, his room, everything that happened in between Scarif and Yavin 4. Did he mean it? Did he remember the Ghost?

 

Wanting is new for Jyn. It’s a luxury she’s never been allowed to want something - whatever she needed was for survival, taken without hesitation and if she had credits on her, she’d spare a few. The problem with getting by is she never let herself think about futures or about possibilities  when her focus was only on the next day, one step in front of the other.  But this _thing_ with Cassian is uncharted territory.

 

It feels like the first time she learned how to drink amongst the other members of Saw’s cell and when she’d been taught to how to hit and run at an Imperial base, leave before anyone even saw you drop the grenade. They taught her many things - the most useful one being able to out drink anyone they taught her before she ran when they looked at her like bait to be used. The feeling of her insides coiling and uncoiling as she contemplates the ledge she’s standing.

 

She wonders if this ache and yearn is something her parents felt, if Galen felt it when he’d been the Empire’s puppet. She remembers the warmth of her parents as a constant and vaguely recalls the earlier days in Coruscant where there was a period where Lyra had spent most her moments with Jyn. It was that love that kept her going in the early days being raised as Saw’s before it crumbled and faded, recognizing that love was a luxury and and a distraction that could kill.

 

It’s a gap she wants to bridge inside because she didn’t have to look behind constantly, wanting to even have something as close to that love she remembers from her childhood. But Cassian was even worse at the wanting thing than she is. He didn’t even have friends besides a damn Imperial droid when she met him, devoted to the Rebellion and nothing less. It’s not like he was prime material - even if he looked at her in a way that made her yearn for more - she feels that his singular devotion to the cause, he’d only followed her because he couldn’t bear the fact that he’d have killed in vain. It had to be a situation where she was at the right place at the right time.

 

So of course, she avoids him because it’s not like any of them have any experience in that area and they sure as hell weren’t about to figure it out because everything became infinitely more complicated with their short and explosive past.

 

They didn’t say I love you but they looked at each other in ways that ‘partners’ didn’t quite cover, had gone through too much that it needed to be confronted sometime.

 

“I’ll try,” she says, shoving the last of her food into her mouth, “but I can’t guarantee anything.”

 

She doesn’t bother seeking him out, instead opting to watch him from the corner of her sight as he’s sent off to gather more intel.

 

-.-

 

It’s been almost two months and the base has Princess Organa and two new people; Luke Skywalker and a smuggler named Han Solo. The whispers that followed Rogue One are finally put to rest as they find their new hope in those three. Leia Organa is barely younger than she is, a headstrong girl who helped lead the mission in a way Jyn found eerily similar to when she and Cassian gathered the crew to Scarif. Luke is a Jedi and he’s got stars in his eyes, the farm boy astounded at everything he sees. She’d seen him look blown away when the princess had pointed the Rogue One crew to him. She smiles as she thinks of Ezra, of the fact that the Jedi would come back in time.

 

She whispers as much to Chirrut as they watch the procession go by, and he smiles.

 

Solo’s a bit of an ass, reminding herself of her before the Rebellion and hoped that the edges would wear down and he’d make his way towards the cause - if anything, he looked at the Princess like that she’d think he’d probably follow anything she said if it meant being in her vicinity. It strikes her a bit too close to home and she redirects her attentions back towards the Skywalker boy, who looks at them for the briefest second and smiles. She returns it with a slight wave of her own.

 

She and the rest of her crew stay in the back as they watch the proceedings, as they’d turned down the Princess-Senator’s offer of a medal. She had called them up immediately as word that the princess made it back to the base, watches as they break away to discuss the medal- no one wants it.

 

Cassian somehow chooses that moment to reappear, standing at her back when she turns, almost colliding as she tries to get the others. He steadies her for a bit and watches her while she closes her mouth and turns back to Leia. They form a half circle away from the princess, discussing quietly about the medal. However it’s clear that no one’s taking it.

 

“We did what we had to. For the rebellion,” Jyn says, looking at Cassian to ask if maybe _he_ wanted the medal. This was after all his rebellion and they were simply the only ones willing to risk it all for a shot at hope. The others murmur agreements when she tells Leia as much, getting a piercing look from her before she nods, “If that’s what you want.”

 

“Thank you, but really, we don’t need medals.” She smiles softly as the girl leans forward to grasp her hands in her.

 

“Thank you and your crew. You did what no one else could have done.” She turns her head to the side once more, connecting with Cassian’s stare as she responds to her.

  
“Someone needed hope.” She shrugs, watches as Leia lets out the brightest smile that she can see why Solo would follow her. She had an air of royalty and friendliness that felt warm. She goes back to her friends as Jyn nudges her toward.

 

Somehow, she finds herself walking out of the ceremony after it’s done with Cassian, the silence in between them waiting to be popped. They’re walking around aimlessly, the rest of the base deserted as they’d all stayed in the room that was turned for the ceremony into a place for more festivities. She’d never been one to stick around in crowds, preferring her own company but understanding the usefulness of a crowd as cover.

 

“You have my jacket,” he says as they circle around the base. It’s weird that this was the first time in a while where they’d been in each other’s presence for more than a few seconds, instead of running off to do what was needed. Jyn blinks once, confusion on her lips before she looks down. She still had the jacket he’d placed on her when he guided her out of the council room and into his room. She hadn’t taken it off or given it back, a flush spreading through her neck.

 

“I do,” she says, shrugging it off until he holds a hand up.

 

“Keep it,” he says. She finds herself looking up to his eyes, the gentleness and warmth they had that was different from their first meeting when he just looked so damn tired. It’s too much to deal with, the dam that’s been building up inside since Scarif breaks inside of her.

 

“We have to talk,” she says, taking matters into her own hands as she tugs him towards her own quarters.

 

“Is everything okay, Jyn?” He asks and she wants to laugh - because everything may have been okay but they were not - they avoided each other for too long. And sure, half was her own fear, that she’d been closed off for so long that she latched onto the first person who’d stayed. And if he didn’t feel that way, why would he look at her like she was something precious if he didn’t at least feel the same?

 

“Not exactly. You saved my life, I saved yours. You told me that my father would be proud,” her voice cracks, feeling like she wants to cry but refuses. “You stayed. And then we pass each other like nothing happened.”

 

“Do you remember the Ghost?  I was so scared. I haven’t felt fear like that in so long.”

 

“Of course I do,” he says softly. “It’s all I think about.”

 

She grasps his hand with hers, still not looking.

 

“I’ve never stuck around for anyone or anything. I’ve never done this before. You know who I was before what we did with Rogue One.  I was never in this for rebellions or empires or making a difference. I was in this because someone believed in me, even if no one else did and we almost died _._ ”

 

He lets out a laugh, semi disbelieving as he rubs circles on her hand. It feels right, her hand in his a complimentary piece as she squeezes.

 

“I felt that that you could do so much better with someone else, not someone as jaded as me. I haven’t sought you out because it was life or death. And we do things we don’t always mean.” He says, almost whispering in the quiet of her room.  

 

Her heart squeezes as she turns, watches as he looks at her with wonder that crinkled at his eyes and made him seem so much younger than twenty six. She pushes a stray lock of hair from his face as she looks into his eyes.

 

“Did you mean what you said, before Scarif? About welcome home?”

 

“The rebellion can be your home, if you choose.”

 

She shakes her head. “Not the rebellion. You.” His eyebrows raise slightly as she continues. “I don’t share easily. I hold on too tight and never let go. Will you let me go?”

 

“There’s no one else I want more than you,” he says softly, looks at her in the way that makes her heart sing, like she’s a present and brushes his lips against her forehead. The dam floods happiness and joy as she all about jumps into his arms and pushes him onto the bed. She looks at him from above, the kyber crystal pulsing again by her heart and she bends to kiss him. There’s the scratch of his beard against her mouth, the way his arms wrap around her waist to hold her close against him. He tastes like sanctuary and everything that she remembers from Lah’mu - a place to rest.

 

“There’s no one else I’d want more than you either,” she whispers to him as she pulls from his face, watches his closed eyes and the smile that begins on his face. The unease that’s fluttered inside of her finally calm downs as she slots her mouth against his once more, desperate to make up for lost time.

 


End file.
